Don't Go
by TheSparksOfMagic
Summary: Matthew has been acting strangely and has left Francis alone, so he goes to Arthur for some emotional support. There, he finds out some of the other nations (one other in particular!) have been acting out of sorts as well. Is this a case of teenage angst or is something darker going on? Not an AU. Franada and heavily implied UsUk, rated T for Arthur's language.
1. Where is mon cher?

**AN - Hey! This is my first proper fic, it should be updated every few days, so bear with me! I have the first few chapters already written, but I'm in school so they might be a bit sporadic. Some angst, lots of romance, many innuendoes and the like. Contains bad language!**

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Francis squirmed around uncomfortably, feeling strangely cold. Still wrapped in the tatters of day dreams, he turned around to face-

No-one.

With a frown, Francis sat up, propping himself against the heavy pillows. Where was Matthew? Surely he hadn't left yet? He'd only stayed for a night, and Francis couldn't smell the tantalising wafts of pancakes drenched in maple syrup from the kitchen that usually explained the younger nation's absence.

"Mon cher?" he called out softly, "Where are you 'iding, Mattie? I promise, I really am looking, you aren't invisible to me, you know..."

Slowly, he eased himself out of bed, clenching his teeth as a rush of cold air assaulted his (beautiful, naked) legs, causing goosebumps to ripple up them.

"Matt-ieeee..."

There was no shower running, no lock on the toilet door (not that the lock actually worked, but Matthew didn't know that; _Naive little Canada, _Francis thought fondly) and no rumpled covers in the spare bedroom (_Why, _Francis pondered, _Mattie would be in there, I will never know. _Only the stodgy git England slept in there and then he had only recently began that)

Eventually, when Francis had looked all over his house and nearly given up on finding Matthew, he spotted a familiar head of blonde hair just poking over the top of a bush in his garden.

Smiling, Francis sauntered over to the younger nation, who sat on the grass, playing with Kumaj – Kumajo – Kumaju – that polar bear thing. Sitting down beside him (completely naked) Francis looked up at the dawn sky, the reds and golds of the sunrise already having given way to the fresh blues; the day was going to be a scorcher.

"Took you long enough to find me, eh?" Matthew said after a spell of silence, his soft voice breaking Francis out of his peaceful daydream. Confused at the strangely hostile tone, he looked up at Matthew, whose violet eyes were dark behind those wire frames.

"Well, I did not expect you to be in the garden, did I?" Francis said carefully, unused to what was obviously anger in the usually calm Canadian, "Usually you would be in the kitchen, I know you simply adore those pancakes in the morning, mon petit cher." Matthew didn't meet his gaze.

"I don't think I wanna be your 'petit cher' any more, _France._"

Francis gaped _very_ unattractively. Mattie never called him France; they'd been on human name terms for-

"years since we met. And you still flirt with the other guys, even now we're together. You tried to touch up _England_, for God's sake. I just wish you would pay more attention to me for once, _outside_. Not just here, or at my house."

Matthew moved to get up, but Francis held a hand on his thigh, preventing him from leaving.

"You're not... leaving... Are you?" he muttered, blue eyes downcast.

Matthew took a rattling breath in, and Francis noticed again that his eyes were dark, only this time with tears.

"That's just the thing. You act so lovely, like you want _me _here, but as soon as we go out, you immediately turn into Mr Flirt again. Can't you just... tone down the France a little bit sometimes? I just... fine. Yes." Matthew smiled a small, sad smile that damn near broke Francis' heart.

"I'm leaving. Please just... Give me some time, OK? But don't come and find me this time. I'll find you."

Francis began to cry, tiny, salty tears that left streaks down his pale cheeks.

"Promise?" he said in a voice that only Matthew would ever be able to hear.

Matthew sighed. **Those eyes? He couldn't... He had to be strong. He wouldn't be a pushover any more.**

"Yeah. Promise." Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Francis sat alone in the grass, surrounded by the falling pink petals of the rose bush.

It was as if there had never been anyone else there at all.

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**AN - Me again! Please R&R, I want to know what you think!**


	2. Meeting with Arthur

**AN - the next chapter... Enjoy! Proper notes will now be at the bottom of my chapters**

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Francis sat in the garden for nearly a whole hour, watching the sun rise high over the garden and warm his bare skin. The tear tracks had dried salt trails down his cheeks, his eyes were swollen and red and his nose was dripping from the force of tears.  
What was he going to do?  
He'd promised Mattie (oh god, not Mattie. Canada) that he wouldn't follow him or find him, but he needed to speak to the nation. He wanted to under stand why he had walked out, ran away and left Francis alone.

Stumbling out of the garden, Francis wandered back to his house, the soft grass tickling the soles of his feet.  
As he entered the spacious kitchen, he felt very small in its emptiness.

He wasn't used to being rejected by someone he actually loved, since it hadn't happened in over four centuries, and it _hurt_. It was as if his heart was broken it was aching so badly.

Stealing through the empty rooms and corridors as if in a dream, Francis stopped next to Mattie's radio, turning it on out of habit.

English lyrics blasted out of the speakers, a powerful ballad with a simple tune.  
It took Francis a few seconds to work out the words in his muddled state, but he felt a pang of sadness as soon as he recognised them, because they were so scarily fitting.  
"**Feels like fire  
I'm so in love with you**"  
He remembered the song from one of Angleterre's collections, and sang along in his husky voice, the haunting melody deepening into the main song.  
"**Love is the light  
Scaring darkness away  
I'm so in love with you  
Purge the soul  
Make love your goal**"

His lilting accent didn't fit the sombre mood, but the thickness of his throat from the tears fitted perfectly.

Sliding down the wall, Francis ended up sitting with his long legs at crooked angles, radio clutched to his chest.

The radio continued to sing.

"**The power of love  
A force from above  
Cleaning my soul**"

The rest of the beautiful song washed over Francis, the melody calming his racing heart and the deep voice soothing his over-active imagination.  
When it finished, Francis quickly turned the radio off, not wanting another song to ruin the fragile mood. Silence swelled to fill the spaces the music had left.

Slowly the old nation stood, blonde hair falling into his eyes.  
He headed up the stairs to his bedroom (avoiding a look at the bed which was still rumpled on the side where Mattie slept) where he changed into his smartish blue shirt and casual skinny jeans.  
Pulling a comb through his hair, he picked up his phone and called the only number he had memorised other than Mattie's.

The dial tone lasted for far too long before the other person picked up. When they did, Francis didn't give them a chance to speak.  
"Angleterre, I need to speak to you. Can I come over?"  
The silence on the line lasted a second.  
"France, is this about Canada?" England's voice sounded strangely thick, as if he'd been crying.  
Confused, Francis almost noddex, then remembered that England wouldn't see it.  
"Yes, mon ami… Arthur… I need your help."

The other nation's breath hitched at the use of his human name.  
"Okay… Francis. Come over and you can tell me everything."

It never occured to Francis that Arthur had not sworn or been sarcastic at all in the call.

Francis' head bumped up and down as he lay it on the rattling train window. His hair was slowly being matted beyond recognition as the abuse – he would have to sort it out the moment he could get off this bloody contraption. The train hurtled down the Channel tunnel at some ridiculous speed towards Dover, where Arthur was waiting at his favourite home.

Francis smiled a soft, worn smile.

He was going to see _Arthur, _not England, for the first time in a century/

_Strange how it takes a whole Nation virtually vanishing for us to make amends, _Francis murmured under his breath.

The journey was fast, much faster and much less painless than visiting Amérique or... Canada, but it felt so much worse because this time he really wanted and needed to be going.

He had charmed the lovely ticket girl into allowing him first class seats, and he was trying to enjoy the complementary glass of wine. But every sip he took reminded him of another train trip from a long time ago...

"**Papa, are we almost there yet?" The teenage nation (about 17 in human years) rested his neck against the back of the leather seat, long hair falling over violet eyes. Francis smiled, glass in hand. **

"**Non, mon ange, we have a few more hours left to travel left. Just sit back, and enjoy the scenery."**

**Canada huffed, sinking back further into the seat and looking almost wistfully out of the window. **

**Francis sneaked a glance at the other nation.**

**He looked beautiful in the dawn half-light; hair like twisted strands of gold , hiding those gorgeous amethyst eyes but not those full lips, as pink as rose petals-**

**Rose petals falling around his body, the bush preventing him from seeing Mattie's retreating figure, grass ticking the soles of his feet, tears streaking his eyes, throat raw, sore and swollen from the force of his crying-**

"Merde," Francis gasped, awaking with a jolt that caused his head to collide with the plastic window with a sickening crunch. He hadn't realised that he'd actually fallen asleep, and hoped no-one had noticed.

Quickly scanning the carriage, he found that none of the other passengers had even looked up.

Irrationally upset (what if he'd actually fainted?) Francis huffed and turned to look out of the window, startled to find that they'd exited the tunnel and had entered England. He mirrored the actions of memory-Canada and sighed as Kent's beautiful sights came into view. He'd almost forgotten how pretty England could be – after all, that was why he thought Arthur could be so damn attractive when he wasn't frowning, wasn't it?

_Oh merde, _Francis thought with a hint of alarm, _I will not think of Arthur that way right now – not when I'm trying to get him to help me find my lover!_

Feelings conflicted, Francis groaned.

His government must be arguing – that was definitely the reason, yes. That must be it.

With a shudder the train drew to a halt, and Francis walked purposefully out of the carriage and immediately spotted Arthur's unruly mop of blonde hair. He greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks, ignoring the short nation's flustering.

Then he took in Arthur's outfit.

"Arthur, mon ami, what _are_ you wearing? Don't you usually where something even a little smarter these days? I mean, not military uniform, but that... That's pushing it."

Arthur flushed, gesturing to his very punk clothing, and it struck Francis how _young _and vulnerable he looked. The way Arthur usually dressed and spoke, Francis often forgot that physically, Arthur was about 23.

_Oh my, how old does that make **me**_?

"Oh do not worry yourself, I was simply commenting," Francis laughed, "I am no better today, non?"

Smiling, Arthur began to leave the crowded station, Francis following close behind him. When they had settled themselves in the back of a taxi Arthur conjured up, Arthur turned to face the other nation, and Francis finally noticed the deep purple shadows under green eyes that were not obvious in the dark station lighting.

"Francis..." he muttered slowly, "I know about Canada."

Francis raised a perfect eyebrow.

"Yes, well, the same thing happened between Alfred and I."

Francis raised both eyebrows. "What, Amérique left you naked and stranded in the middle of your garden when after an argument when trying to find him after waking up alone and confused after a night of amazing s-"

"No! Oh god, no. Not like _that_." Arthur blushed even deeper (Francis wondered idly how he managed to make his entire face and neck to glow like that) and played with the cuticle on his thumb nail "He'd stayed at mine after a meeting and in the morning he just left. Not that, you know, he usually stays longer than necessary, but... he left a note." Francis frowned at the evident anguish on his friend's face.

"What did it say, mon ami?"

"He said... That... He h-hated me and w-wished... wished he'd-d... ne-ver..." With a jolt, Francis realised that Arthur was crying; Arthur Kirkland, he of stoic rudeness and blatant disregard of feelings. Feeling slightly nonplussed and very much angry at Amérique, he slid an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, rubbing small, comforting circles on his back.

"What did he say, Arthur?" he probed gently.

Arthur hung his head, covering those hypnotic eyes.

"He s-said that he w-wish-shed he'd n-never been-n f-found-d and... and that he'd have b-been better off... d-dead... than in... m-my 'goddamn awful care'." Arthur mimed air quotes to the last part, lifting his head to show Francis his green eyes sparkling with tears.

Well, Francis certainly hadn't been expecting that.

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**AN - I was going to make this into two chapters, but it just worked as one, so I kept it like this. However, this is were I have written up to, so updates will not be every day/every other day as I first said. The song is 'The Power of Love' by Frankie goes to Hollywood. Here's a link to a video of it on YouTube. watch?v=L2BviXN6yhk**

**Also, I hope you like my characterisations. :) Francis is the ultimate lover, and I know a lot of fanfic writers portray him as this groping pervert, but I think he would be totally devoted to his lover at the time. But... he goes through lovers quickly! My Arthur is VERY dere at the moment, but he is extremely upset, and I promise he'll be back to normal in the next chapter. Swearing and all!**

**Be prepared for another angsty chapter next, although there will also be some more light-hearted bits as well. **

**Wow... I just read this through again... It's long! And angsty! I'm so sorry guys...**


	3. Tea Time Talks

**I meant to do this before;**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters of Hetalia, rights belong to the owners. I do own the plot though!**

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Sitting with Arthur in his garden, Francis let out a deep sigh, wrapping his long fingers around the fine bone china handles of the teacup Arthur had placed into his hands within minutes of arriving. The amber liquid swirled a little, creating twisting patterns in the cloudy drink. Francis took no notice of the tea, just wanting the warmth that was seeping into his fingers.

He heard a matching sigh from beside him, and looked up to see Arthur sipping from his own cup gently. The fragile, delicate look was beginning to fade from the smaller nation's face, making him look much more normal, but his eyes were still dark with upset.

"Oh, for the days when they would just play in the fields, eh Francis?" Arthur murmured, knowing that France would know exactly who he meant. "Life was just so much simpler. Drink, eat, fuck and sleep. We could rule the seas, take everything and give nothing back."

"Oui," Francis replied with a nostalgic smile, "Politics were not so much our problem then, were they?" Arthur gave a small snort of laughter, more of a sharp breath out than a laugh. He looked to the sky, setting the empty teacup onto the wooden table beside him.

"What are we going to do then, Frog? Do we go find them like the pitiful, weak, goddamn _desperate_ bastards we are, or do we let them come crawling back to us like the pitiful, weak fucking bastards _they _are?" Francis looked around quickly, not expecting the mouth full of profanities Arthur had just uttered; but then again, he was still England, was he not?

"Well, mon ami, if we are to be, as you eloquently said, _desperate bastards_, then I say that we go and find our little ones. It is just, these actions are so out of character; do you not agree?"

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, but Francis saw a trace of worry under the action as well. "Well, Alfred and I always argue, but... Yes, never to this extent. Maybe there is something else going on here? Especially with Mattie, I'd never expect him to do such a thing. I forget about him most of the time, he's so bloody shy, I just can't imagine him walking out like that."

He stood, offering a slim hand to Francis, who grasped it lightly. Together they walked towards the door, communicating silently in a manner only those who know each other far too well can, their first destination obvious.

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The airport was full of people, milling around aimlessly as they waited for their planes to arrive. Of course, Arthur and Francis bypassed straight through the hordes of people, breezing through the check ins and baggage areas without a hitch. All they had to do was flash their official badges and the stunned security workers could only look on in amazement at the highly respected men that ordered first class seats on the first plane to the USA.

Unluckily, there was no such plane ready at that moment, but it only took twenty minutes of waiting interspersed with occasional bursts of conversation before they were boarding the plane into first class. Francis flirted with the pretty (but oh so plastic) attendant, but there was no heart in it. He barely even thought about touching the girl! Matthew was stuck on a permanent loop in his brain, going round and round in circles. Those violet eyes that were unfocused and closed off, but _why? _What had happened.

Something was very wrong.

The 8 hour journey passed uneventfully. Arthur finished off his book, closed his eyes and promptly fell into a rather more eventful sleep, dreaming of darkness and screams and tears. Francis looked on at the man as he slept, patting his hair softly. The lure of sleep pulled him in too, but he found that he couldn't shut his mind down, as much as he tried. Instead, he opted to just pull on his earphones, listening to calming music in a futile attempt at distraction.

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**AN - I meant for this to be a bit longer, but I wanted to update soon. It might be a bit waffley... Am I dragging it out too much?! 0.o What do you think?**

** I'm so sorry this took a lot longer to update than I said, but I've had my big exams, so I've had to revise a lot. But, I hope it's OK! It's more of a filler/connecting chapter, and I promise that there will be some actual action/plotline coming soon! **

**Also, I'm bringing in another country next chapter. Can you guess who? ;)**

**Please review, I want to know what you lovely people think! Constructive criticism is fine, if you feel like I need it. (I probably do)**


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